Ole Devil at San Jacinto (Old Devil Hardin Western Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

a
summons to report immediately to the General’s headquarters.
Leaving Mannen to carry out the preparations he had ordered,
the captain
made his way to Houston. Having anticipated the summons, he had
tidied up his appearance and the Manton pistol now rode in its loop
on his belt.
    If the young Texian had any
doubts over why he had been summoned, they ended upon his arrival.
As he had expected, on entering the big wall tent, he found that
General Houston was not alone. ‘Deaf’ Smith was standing alongside Ole Devil’s
uncle, Colonel Edward Fog. Although they had not met, the Texian
had no need to exercise his mental powers greatly to deduce the
identity of the fourth man at the General’s table-desk.
    Something above medium height,
stoutish, in his early fifties, with the blue-jowled features of a
Provencal Frenchman, there was little of the Creoles’ dandified elegance about him,
although he was dressed in the same Creole fashion. For all that, he was the
commanding officer of the New Orleans’ Wildcats; Colonel Jules
Dumoulin. He had a hard-bitten, disciplined appearance which told
of military experience and suggested he had been a professional
soldier for a number of years. There was nothing in his expression
or attitude to suggest what he might be thinking about the injuries
suffered by his subordinates.
    However, Ole Devil’s main attention was
reserved for the person to whom he had come to report.
    Big, powerfully built, with
longish and almost white hair, the commanding general of the
Republic of Texas’s Army made an imposing figure even when seated
in such simple and primitive surroundings. He was the kind of man
who had no need of pomp and splendor to enhance his authority, his
personality did all that was necessary in that respect. Although
his seamed, lined and Indian-dark face rarely showed emotion, his
surprisingly young-looking blue eyes suggested a deep inner
strength. There was something about him, the
indefinable —yet instantly recognizable—aura of one who was born with
the gift of leadership.
    Since the withdrawal to the east
had commenced, Houston had packed away his uniform’s formal dress
tunic and black bicorn chapeau. They had been replaced by a waist
long, fringed buckskin jacket, a tightly rolled scarlet silk
bandana, an open necked dark blue worsted shirt and a broad brimmed
white ‘planter’s’ hat, which were better suited to his needs. As
his tan colored riding breeches and shining black Wellington boots xiii were purely functional, he still
retained them.
    One point had struck Ole Devil
as soon as he had entered the tent. Although he was aware of why he
had been summoned, the General was bare headed. The hat lay with a
brace of pistols and a saber on the bed in the rear portion of the
structure .
    ‘ Is
that all you have to say?’ demanded the smallish, yet excellently
developed blond haired Colonel Fog, when his nephew relapsed into
silence after the brief answer.
    ‘ No excuse, sir,’ Ole Devil replied,
staring straight ahead.
    ‘ Blast it!’ Colonel Fog
ejaculated. ‘I’ll expect some better reason than that.’
    ‘ No
excuse, sir!’ Ole Devil repeated, conscious that Dumoulin was
watching him.
    ‘ Aw shucks, now, Ed,’ Smith protested
placatingly. ‘Like I told the Colonel here, all of those boys of
his’n got hurt accidental like. Mind you, I can’t say’s how I
blames young Mannen for getting riled, way Devil here was a-riding
him. Trouble being, he’s so all-fired big, he just don’t know his
own strength.’
    ‘ And, as I stated, I am
willing to accept that explanation, ’ the Frenchman went on, his tones harsh
without being in any way hostile. ‘The whole affair was lamentable
and should never have happened. However, as it did, we can do
nothing except try to ensure it goes no further.’
    ‘ I’m in complete agreement
with that Colonel,’ Ole Devil’s uncle stated grimly. ‘And I can
assure you it will not as far as the Texas Light Cavalry